Blood
by Werepuppy Black
Summary: Price, Davies and Watson decide to teach Vlad a lesson. It doesn't work out that way.


A/N: Written a few years ago but decided to upload it today because why not?

* * *

There seemed to be a new trend sweeping amongst the 'toughs' of Stokely Grammar, of speaking in what was considered 'hard' talk. While Vlad personally found it laughable, he had to admit there was something to the language when spoken in the right manner, at least, in the context of intimidating the other students. Odd, really.

It was a free period, due to their English teacher being absent and not having left any work for them to complete. It also happened to be the last class of the day and the last class before the weekend. Even if their teacher had left them work, it was unlikely to have been worked on. In one corner sat Richard Price, Andrew Davis, and Tommo Watson, all of whom were speaking in loud voices, the better for everyone else to hear him.

"I pressed her, blood, an' I'm tellin' you, that ting was _live_," Davies enthused, making an obscene gesture with his fingers. Price and Watson laughed loudly, slapping Davies on the back.

"Real man now, ain't ya, blood," Watson declared, leaning back in his chair that dared anyone in the room to even try to challenge his own masculinity.

"Unlike some little batty boys we could speak of," Price shot a cruel glare into the corner of the room, where Robin Branagh sat, scribbling something in his sketch book, and talking about something to Vlad Count. Price's eyes narrowed again; there was something about Count that irritated him. More now, since when they had returned from the summer break, he seemed impossible to annoy. "Speaking of, look at the way 'e's sitting. Wants to play a being one of us, I reckon."

"Got a point, blood," Davies automatically agreed. "He's been well disrespectin' you since term started, thinks he's 'ard now," he added, nodding quickly.

"Blood's gotta learn where his place is," Watson said in a quiet voice, a vicious grin sliding on to place on his face.

"An' I'll be the one to learn him." Price said. He was the leader, after all.

* * *

_'Only a few minutes left_,' Vlad thought, closing his eyes after looking at the clock on the wall. He leant his head back against the wall behind him, listening to Robin's prattle.

"And you could get me to do your official portrait, how cool would that be?" Robin said, putting his pencil down finally, and rubbing at his fingers. He grinned, and showed Vlad the sketch. Somehow – Vlad wasn't sure how exactly, but put it down to simply not being able to say 'no' to Robin – Robin had gotten him to pose for a sketch for his art coursework. Looking at it, Vlad couldn't help but grin, just slightly. Robin had gone for the obvious and drew Vlad as, what else, a vampire.

Well, more to the point, he drew him in the role of Grand High Vampire, as the Crown of Bones of his head showed. He had to hand it to Robin; he really was good at art. Vlad's eyes lingered over his drawn self's cheek. Three scars, just barely visible, but there, were lightly sketched in. His own hand went up to his cheek, fingering the real scars. A reminder of the battle with Ingrid when he had regained consciousness. Vlad shook his head, snapping out of his memories. It wasn't worth it.

"It's great Robin, really," he said, "obvious, but who apart from us knows that?" Robin looked over and grinned.

"I was expecting you to groan at it," he said. "Finally accepting your role to become the most awesome vampire ever?" The bell rang, cutting out Robin's last words, as the scraping of chair legs on the floor filled the room. "Alright if I come to yours? Dad's been getting on at me about me lack of motivation," he said, mocking his father's voice as he repeated his words.

"Should be okay, yeah," Vlad said, after quickly trying to recall if he was expecting any of the Council today. "Just don't try sleeping in one of the coffins again; Dad's threatening to not let you out next time."

* * *

It was darker now when they got out of school, well, it was autumn, nearing winter. Vlad was okay with the dark, unsurprisingly, but Robin was wary. Especially when he noticed Price, Davies, and Watson following them. When he told Vlad, the young vampire frowned, but continued walking. Robin explained it to himself as Vlad not wanting to show a fear, but that made Robin begin to wonder exactly what had happened when his friend was shipped off to Transylvania during the summer, and he knew Vlad would never tell him.

"Where you going in such a hurry, batty boys?" Price jeered loudly at them, causing them both to pause in their step for a moment or two. "Running away? But we just want to play!" Watson was in front of them now, while Price stalked up behind them. Davies flanked from the side. "Gonna teach you to be big men, like us."

"That's right, blood, gonna teach 'em," Davies echoed. Watson didn't speak, instead giving that sinister smile once more. Since the group had picked up their new manner of speech, Watson had taken on the role of the silent thug. It worked for him, if Robin and Vlad were forced to be honest about it. "Should we start by making sure they get the message, blood?" There was a noise of a flicking pen-knife, and Robin paled.

"I would advise putting that little toy away," a new voice spoke it. It was far deeper than any voice Robin knew, but Vlad seemed to recognise it, as he stood to attention, and frowned. The voice belonged to a tall blonde man, who stared at the others with an air of bemusement.

"What you on blood?" Price yelled at the man, jumping forward with his own pen knife. "You don't come round here and interrupt my business, alright? We don't hold with that," he brandished the knife threateningly towards the man, who simply raised an eyebrow.

"That's right blood, we don't take that!" Davies said moving forward. "Especially not from batty boys like you," he added, sneering at the well-tailored and clearly expensive suit the man was wearing.

"Never have, and never will, you hear me blood?" Watson said, stepping forward himself, fists clenched. The three circled the man, and Robin began to think this newcomer incredibly stupid. Okay, so he was tall, but that didn't mean he could take on three armed teenagers, all of whom had a reputation for never losing a fight. Of course, Vlad was abnormally silent during all of this, watching, no, he was studying the scene, with a detached curiosity. Robin shivered at it; Vlad was becoming more vampiric than he cared to notice.

The man moved, quicker than Robin could see, and then Price, Davies and Watson were hanging by their collars from his hands, as he hovered in mid-air. "I would advise you ... tea-cup humans, to not test me." He looked at them, and grinned, showing fangs. "You would make a tasty treat."

"Eric," Vlad's voice was soft, but loud, if such a thing were possible. "Let them go."

"Wha..." Price's voice echoed out first. "You know this freak?" His voice was filled with panic, but it wasn't Vlad he addressed, it was the man who was holding him in mid-air. Eric, as the man was called, gave a very fangy smile.

"He is my leader, and you would do well to show him respect," Eric said calmly. Robin turned to Vlad, who shrugged.

"He's not due to visit till next week."


End file.
